


Fairy Lights In The Darkness

by alliaskofyou, TryingToScribble



Series: Friends, Foes, and Festivities [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Pre-Slash, it's all fluff in the end, mentions of abusive family, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 02:11:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13136949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliaskofyou/pseuds/alliaskofyou, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TryingToScribble/pseuds/TryingToScribble
Summary: What if John and Sherlock met at Christmas?





	Fairy Lights In The Darkness

John has never left his Christmas shopping so late before. That is because John has hardly ever been Christmas shopping. He doesn’t tend to celebrate, what with a dead mother and an absent father and an alcoholic sister. He’s doing that thing again, the thing where he talks to himself in his head about how bad he’s got it. His therapist has told him to stop doing that.

 

His therapist has also told him to try a new approach.

 

“Why don’t you try celebrating the holidays your own way? Get a little festive. Have a little fun.” She had said.

 

That is why John is in Asda of all places (because Tesco isn’t open) wishing he’d never been born, simply because the box he needs to get is on the top shelf and he wasn’t blessed with height, either.

 

All he wanted to do was exactly the minimum amount of work needed to do whatever his therapist told him to. She tells him to write a diary, so he buys a notebook and keeps his shopping lists in it. She tells him to eat more healthily, so he picks up a variety of take out menus instead of foregoing his evening meals. She tells him to be festive, so he is buying lights that will tell the outside world that he is the same as them.

 

She tells him he needs to do things that will help him be happier, but everything he does is for show. It makes no difference with his house.

 

Fake it ‘til you make it.

 

That brings him back to the point at hand that nothing ever goes in John’s favour. He doesn’t like asking for help but he would rather that than deal with another scolding from his therapist.

 

A man, a very (well, quite) tall man, walks down the aisle towards him, so before he can lose his nerve he gives an awkward wave with one hand while he points at the high shelf with the other. “Hey. Hi. Um, would you mind helping me-”

 

The man reaches for the box of lights and hands it to him without a word, continuing on down the aisle.

 

“Merry Christmas.” John says in thanks but he knows that the man doesn’t hear him.

 

He shrugs and makes his way to the tills via the milk. He buys his things and leaves the store.

 

He curses his bad shoulder and leg as he remembers that he has to carry his shopping through thickening snow back home, so when he starts down the path he isn’t looking ahead but at his feet and walks straight into the tall man from before.

 

John manages to catch the box of lights but loses the milk. “Shit.” He sighs in frustration but honestly, this is his life.

 

He leaves the milk to it’s doom and looks up at the man he bumped into. The man is staring at him. It feels more like he’s staring into him.

 

“Sorry, mate.” John says to fill the darkness. Or because it’s polite.

 

The man seems fine but the staring is creepy and John doesn’t have time for it. Well, John has all the time for it. More accurately, he doesn’t have the patience for it. So, he makes to sidestep and continue on his journey but the man starts speaking.

 

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

 

John’s brows crease in confusion. “What?”

 

All at once his whole life story comes tumbling at high speed from this guy’s mouth. His mother’s death, his father’s disappearance, his foster family’s beatings, his brother’s (sister’s) drinking habits, his time in the army and being invalided, his therapist, his mundane existence. It’s all laid bare in front of him in the snow.

 

John is stunned and takes a minute to find his voice.

 

“Amazing.”

 

It amazes John that he says that instead of punching the daylights out of the guy. However, it seems to amaze the man more.

 

“Really?”

 

John can’t believe he’s entertaining this. “Yes.”

 

“That’s not what people usually say.” The man says slowly as if expecting a blow any moment.

 

He can’t help himself. “What do they usually say?”

 

“Piss off.”

 

John is laughing. He doesn’t know when he started or how, but he is laughing. Long and hard and with abandon. The man joins in.

 

When they both calm down John offers his hand in greeting. “John Watson.”

 

The man takes it in a firm grip and shakes. “Sherlock Holmes.” They let go and Sherlock shoves his hands in his pockets. “So, Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock asks again with a raised eyebrow.

 

John wants to laugh again. This is going to be fun.

 

“Don’t you want to buy me a drink first?”


End file.
